6 ways my children and cats are eerily similar

by Erin L. on September 30, 2014

my cats and my kids are the sameLast night I crawled into bed next to my husband, who was reading a book. He reached over and started scratching my head and arm. Not five seconds later, one of our cats, Schubert, was all up in my face, trying to get my husband to rub him instead of me.

Seriously cat? It’s MY TURN.

This got me thinking about how my cats and my kids are pretty much the same (well except for the whole human/animal thing and the fact that I birthed my children and just picked up the cats at the rescue place – but whatever, you’ll get my point.)

1) The minute we sit down to do anything…eat our dinner, enjoy a cup of coffee, read, work…a kid or a cat wants something. More milk please. Can I have more bread? A meow to go outside. A meow for food. A meow to be pet. Why is that?

2) They are both awesome to have in your lap. Having a warm body all cuddled up next to me on the couch is pretty much heaven.

3) Bodily fluids. I can’t win. I’m either wiping a booty, cleaning up cat barf, dealing with boogers or scooping up kitty litter. If it’s not one, it’s the other. Every day.

4) Neither understand peace and quiet. My kids talk all day long. Don’t get me wrong; I love listening to them and hearing how they think, but sometimes I just want silence. As soon as I get it, the cats starts meowing. OVER and OVER and OVER.

5) They both interrupt my sleep. I am finally getting a full 7 hours sleep most nights. Miss E hasn’t been waking up as much and Mr A hasn’t had a nightmare in awhile. But a few nights last week, what did  wake up to? The cats scuffling like it was a 2 a.m. bar brawl. Awesome.

6) Unconditional love. Neither of them care that you’re made or cranky, they come up for a hug anyway and 99.9% of the time it makes it all better.

I love my kids. I love my cats. But if they could just coordinate the sleep, dinner, talking thing, that would be fantastic.


Photo from Flickr Creative Commons: Lisa Brown

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The box can’t hold me in

by Erin L. on September 24, 2014

You cannot put me in a box


I am a woman, wife, mother, writer, marketer, friend, daughter, business woman, theater lover, and so much more. I like to drink a lot of coffee, read smutty books, laugh until my stomach hurts, dance, spend money, smooch my children and my husband, and put my toes in the sand. I don’t like to clean, cook, do yard work or run.

Sometimes I get irritated because I can be super lazy. I have to force myself to do all the things that make my house function, otherwise I’d live in a cluttered pit.  There are moments that I know I should do laundry or put away dishes, but I choose to work instead (and by work, I mean get on Facebook obviously.) There are posts I avoid writing because I’m feeling lackluster and uninspired, so I organize the pantry or go through the kid’s closets.

Then my brain starts talking to me.

A stay at home mom should do…insert X.Y and Z.

A successful business woman should be able to… insert X,Y and Z.

An accomplished writer would…  A popular blogger would…  A good mother would… A good wife would…

There are “rules” (society and self imposed) to follow for each box of life. By not following the rules, I don’t fit in the box, all nice and neat. I don’t fit in the stay at home mom box because I work. I don’t fit in the working mom box because I only work part-time from home.

It’s that damn comparison game again. You know the one that resurfaces every so often to remind you that you aren’t where you want/are supposed to be. (Worst game ever, by the way!)

You look at the world directly in front of you and think:

I should be working more. I’d make more money. We could do more things.

I should be writing on the blog more. I’d have higher traffic, better numbers, get more opportunities.

I should write using the actual words I use in my everyday life, I bet more people would read.

Oh, I can’t write about that on the blog; it would be inappropriate and people would stop reading.

OMG, I’m a horrible mother. All this processed food is going to ruin my children. 

Oh, a treat every once and while won’t kill them.

I really need to clean the house, but I’m exhausted.

I’d love to make a video about x,y, z but no one would probably watch it.

She’s such a good mom, she plays with her kids all the time and seems to enjoy it.

Please god, not one more game of Memory!

This is literally a sample of the conversation that happens within my own head as I navigate the chaos of life, wondering where exactly I fit.


The good news is that I know it’s not just me. The bad news is that I know it’s not just me.

Why do we do this to ourselves? Why can’t we ever just feel free to be who we are? We need to stop – second guessing, comparing, being afraid to embrace all of who we are. We need to stop limiting ourselves, creating boundaries and walls that simply aren’t there and shatter the notion that we have to be a certain way.

I am me. Perfectly imperfect me.

And I don’t fit in a box.


Image from Flickr – Creative Commons.





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